


These streets are yours (you can keep them)

by Trash



Series: Kinktober 2017 [19]
Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: AU, Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Violence, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Prostitution, day 19: prostitution/sex work, implied/referenced watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-20 00:59:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12421734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: Dan and Kyle work the streets of London.





	These streets are yours (you can keep them)

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober 2017, day 19: prostitution/sex work.  
> Not sure if spice is just a UK drug but it's a synthetic version of cannabis and it's fucking awful. Google Spice Zombies if you want nightmares/to lose all faith in humanity.

It's cold. Kyle wraps his hoodie further around himself and leans against the shutters of the shop behind him, bringing his cigarette up to his mouth for a long pull. 

A car slows down, rolls to a stop, and Kyle is about to push himself away from the shop front when someone is thrown unceremoniously from the passenger door. 

"Arsehole," the person shouts as the car peels away from the kerb. He dusts himself off, makes eye contact with Kyle and nods. "Alright?"

"Mmm," Kyle says. "Got a shiner there, Dan."

Dan shrugs. "Guy got a bit handsy. Paid for it, though. You break it you buy it, and all that. How's business?"

"Eh. Two blow jobs by the canal. Almost got a shag but the rozzers rolled up before he could pay. Bellends. Knicked his wallet though, so...swings and roundabouts."

"I have to make at least another hundred or it's not even worth going back. Might as well just chuck myself in the Thames."

Kyle winces. "Shit. That bad? You can always come back to the squat if you need to."

Dan shakes his head. "I owe him for spice. Said I'd have the money to him by tonight."

"You should not be smoking that shit. I've heard it's worse than heroin."

“Yeah, well,” Dan says. “It’s all he had.”

Kyle flicks the butt of his cigarette away. “All he had was spice? Does that not sound weird to you? He wants you hooked on it so you keep going back for more, and he’ll keep bumping up the price.”

“Have you ever had spice, Ky?”

“No but-”

Dan nods. “No, so you wouldn’t know. Would you?” He turns away, looking down the street. “Gonna have to find somewhere else, soon,” he says, nodding at the CCTV cameras on the pedestrian crossing. They’re in a blind spot here, but Kyle knows what he means. Soon enough there’ll be more cameras and, just like Soho, Kings Cross will be another place they’re forced out of.

“D’you ever think about what you’d be doing if you weren’t doing this?”

“All the time.”

“So…?”

Dan fidgets with his sleeve. “I’d be a singer. Like Ed Sheeran or something. Singer-songwriter.”

“Didn’t know you can sing.”

“Mmm. Can play piano and that, too. Lot of fucking use that is,” Dan laughs.  
Kyle smirks. “Yeah. I can play keyboard a bit. Not sure how good I’d be at singing. Got that sexy smoker’s rasp, though. You sure you want to be a solo act? I could be in your backing band.”

Dan smiles. “Sure. What shall we call our band?”

“Um. The Hookers.”

Dan goes to protest when a man approaches them. “You were here first,” Dan says.

“You have him, mate.”

Dan nods and steps forward, says nothing. The bloke looks him up and down. “How much if I want to piss on you?” Kyle sighs. Couldn’t have just been something vanilla behind a bin, had to be fucking watersports. But Dan just suggests a price and the guy nods. He looks at Kyle and nods, and follows the guy off into the night.

It's cold. Kyle wraps his hoodie further around himself and leans against the shutters of the shop behind him, pulling out another cigarette and jamming it between his lips. He cups his hands around the flame of his lighter, and takes a long pull.


End file.
